


Reciprocals

by goddessofcruelty



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Romance Novel, Angst, Hale fire, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 13:00:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2310515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessofcruelty/pseuds/goddessofcruelty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's six months later when Peter finally meets the mysterious Christopher Argent, and it happens when he's filthy and in much abused clothing, fencing with Isaac, who has made great strides in both manners and form.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reciprocals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arabwel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arabwel/gifts).



> Prompt: Petopher, impoverished and nigh disowned Christopher Argent takes up the position of tutor in the Hale household, but he did not anticipate the bright blue eyes and wicked mouth of the Lady's youngest brother
> 
> Note: Obviously, I messed this one up. Part of my process is to cut down the prompt for a working title, so this one became Peter-tutor, instead of Chris, and I didn't look at the original from there until it was too late. My apologies.

“ _This is the final straw, Peter. I've given you plenty of chances.”_

Talia's final words ring in his ears as he settles dejectedly on the bench, all his worldly possessions reduced to a single valise at his side. The youngest of five, his parents had never expected him to make much of himself, and so Peter hadn't bothered, had simply lived life to the fullest.

Until Talia became the one holding the purse strings. And insisted he start bringing some worth to the family. Peter thought she was bluffing when she threatened to throw him out if he didn't make something of himself. He was wrong.

He'd eventually wound up here, answering an advert for a tutor, of all things, but in the end, his expensive education was all Peter had to bargain with. If he had some estate, or perhaps higher up in the family hierarchy, but there would be nothing for him but to exist on his older sibling's largesse, no income but what Talia chose to extend to him.

Currently sitting at zero.

At least the position seemed interesting. As such things go. This Argent fellow wasn't looking for your run of the mill tutor for his three children, he wanted not only the typical subjects, but military history, fencing, philosophy, archery, herbology, and several other things apparently to be discussed.

Peter had a habit of acquiring esoteric knowledge, of picking up unusual tomes in the market, of delighting in the bizarre. It may finally serve him well.

His conveyance arrives at last, and he settles in, watches the large town fade away.

-

 _I'm not going to survive this_ , Peter thinks as he surveys the nursery, or what's left of it. Everything in complete disarray, things broken and damaged and three unrepentant, deviously plotting faces sizing him up, just as he does them.

“Isaac, Allison, Stiles,” he names them off from the housekeeper's hasty description, “I'm Mr. Hale. I've come to be your new tutor.”

Isaac blinks big blue eyes up at Peter, angelic face framed by a halo of golden curls. “Not for long,” he says, lifting his chin with a careless air. Peter arches a brow, but is distracted by a scuffle between the twins, and he has to hide his amusement as Allison come out the clear winner, striding over to yank them apart with a good grip on the back of their shirts.

“This is completely unacceptable,” Peter growls. “We do not fight in the classroom. We fight out doors, and we do it properly, not like guttersnipes.”

Identical pairs of soft brown eyes blinks up at him astonished, then Stiles whoops and tears off down the corridor with his ever-so-slightly-elder sister in hot pursuit.

He turns to find the sixteen year old Isaac far too close, licking his lower lip, then flicking his gaze up to Peter. Isaac says nothing, but it's clear what he is trying to do. Peter rolls his eyes, and makes a note to speak to their father about getting that one out into society.

Whenever he meets the man. He's apparently away more than he is home.

-

It's six months later when Peter finally meets the mysterious Christopher Argent, and it happens when he's filthy and in much abused clothing, fencing with Isaac, who has made great strides in both manners and form. The twins are to the side firing arrow after arrow into a crudely drawn caricature of Peter himself, when they both drop their weapons simultaneously and scamper around the corner, muddy and sweating from the exertion.

Peter turns to yell after them, naturally that's when Isaac lands a stinging blow across his face. The boy apologizes, but Peter shakes his head good-naturedly. It was his fault for letting his attention wander. He sends Isaac off the retrieve his erstwhile siblings while he cleans all four weapons and returns them to their places. Once their area is back to rights, Peter turns to head into the house, getting himself clean an immediate need.

And is immediately arrested by a pair of intense blue eyes. Peter stops in his tracks, is lost in that gaze, and stays entrapped until a deep voice sounds, one that sends tremors along the tutor's spine.

“You must be Peter Hale.”

He forces a pleasant smile to his face, makes himself give concise reports on the children's progress, maintains an even disposition throughout. Until he's finally alone, wrapped in his bedclothes, then he allows himself to relax, to let go of his dignity and really absorb the impact of the exquisitely tailored attire and the pale blue pools that he could drown in.

Peter groans and turns onto his back, pillows his head on his hands, and lets his mind absorb every detail of his employer until he feels as if he could draw every detail perfectly. After lengthy consideration, he makes his decision. Peter always acquires things he desires. Right now, that honor belongs to Christopher Argent. And he's going to get his man.

-

Two weeks later, Argent departs with Peter no closer to winning himself a place in the man's bed. He's absolutely certain that he's seen hints of attraction, maybe even desire, however the older man has a seemingly iron grip on himself, and would not unbend even the slightest before he's off again.

The house seems dimmer without the man's presence and Peter soon ends the studies for the day and sends the children off to get themselves into trouble while he wallows in his gloom a while.

Eventually, their routine returns to normal, and Peter begins to delight in, and perhaps even love, his charges. He focuses fully on them during their time together, but his evening, they are reserved for Christopher. He steals things from the patriarch's rooms so that he can have the man's scent in his bed, he daringly wears them when he's pleasuring himself, and he makes his plans for seducing the older man upon their next meeting.

Peter manages to turn Isaac into something resembling a gentleman before he's sent off to school, though the beatific face holds the devil behind it still. It's just him and the twins over Christmas, and they have a quiet affair with small gifts.

Stiles rushes out into the snow to try out his new weapon on the evergreens, while Peter does his best to teach Allison to embroider. Its a skill neither of them are particularly talented at, and there's frustration bleeding into Peter's voice as he snaps out at someone entering.

“I _said_ not to- Oh, Mr. Argent. My apologies.” Peter rises, flushing at his ill manners, and then catches sight of someone behind the children's father.

“Peter Hale, I'd like you to meet Mr. Deucalion, a particularly close friend of mine. Deuc, the children's tutor.” Peter sets his jaw, lifts his chin, buries his feelings and puts on a civil smile. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Peter Hale doesn't let anyone get to him.

Deucalion hums in response, then turns his face toward Allison, almost, it's slightly off-center, and then as Chris takes his arm, Peter sees it. The man is sightless.

“And this,” Christopher's voice softens, “is my little Allison.” Peter studies her as she manages her graces adequately, and nods, slips from the room to track down the youngest Argent.

Once Stiles comports himself properly, Peter excuses himself outdoors, and walks a full mile before releasing his rage. Christopher Argent belongs to _him_. Him and no other.

Peter destroys several bushes, hacking them to bits and dulling his blade before his ire peters out and he begins the long walk back.

He's met halfway by a sobbing Allison who throws herself into his arms.

“Why are you leaving us, Peter?”

“Hush, child, what makes you think I'm leaving?” He has no truck with outbursts of emotion, but he pats her awkwardly on the shoulder as she clings to him.

“Papa says Mr. Deucalion is to be our new tutor, and that you are returning to the City, and that we mustn’t ask you about it.” She's hiccuping now, and Peter is grateful when Stiles appears out of the approaching dusk to comfort his twin. He doesn't speak, simply bores into him with dark eyes and then takes her away.

“I hear I'm to leave,” Peter remarks much more mildly than his inner fury would suggest.

Christopher tilts his head ever so slightly in seeming confusion. “Did you not read the letter I sent two weeks past?”

Peter is the one who is confused now. “We received no such missive.”

Mr. Argent emits a soft sigh and then rises, come close to Peter and lays a hand on his shoulder, and though Peter had been longing for many days for such a closeness, this feels ominous.

“Peter, there's been a fire...”

-

Less than an hour ago, he had been an impoverished tutor, now he's the head of an estate, with two wards of his own to take care of. Thirty minutes ago, he had been exchanging farewells with the Argent household. And now, Peter Hale is arriving at his familial estate, his home now.

Peter finds Laura and Derek at the housekeeper's cottage, where they were taken until he could retrieve them. He finds Derek is nearly a man grown now, and Laura is a poised young lady, doing very well to hide the cracks beneath the surface.

Peter takes them into town, away from the burned out husk of the estate, away from the memories. He has so many new responsibilities now that he doesn't even think of Christopher Argent until he runs into the man at the coming out for one of Laura's circle.

“Mr. Argent,” he says formally, reverting back automatically, which causes a chuckle to fall from the older man's lips.

“Chris,” he says, clasping Peter's hand tightly. “You are no longer employed by me, after all.”

His voice is warm, and perhaps he may be intimating something, but Peter finds the thought that he mightn't have been good enough as he was before, somewhat repellant, and so he's polite, but not friendly, as he nods brusquely and retracts his hand from the man's grasp.

“How are the children?” he asks, ignoring the slight flash of something he doesn't want to think too hard about in those blue eyes.

“Isaac's here somewhere,” Argent says, looking around. “Allison is doing well, learning rapidly. Stiles is...Stiles.”

His laugh invites Peter into a private joke, but he has his pride, and so Peter offers a small smile and sends his well wishes after them, and then excuses himself as quickly as possible.

Peter does make it a point to seek out Isaac, to steal a dance with him, and compliment the golden haired boy on his comportment. He's grown into his height now, and his confidence, making easy conversation until he feels compelled to offer his condolences.

“Thank you, dear boy, we are managing, chin up as they say.”

Isaac nods, and glances across the room to where his father is watching them, he arches a brow and tilts his head towards Peter, who is looking elsewhere, but the elder Argent shakes his head and melts into the crowd.

“Peter,” Isaac tentatively broaches the subject, “Is there an...agreement between yourself and Father?”

Peter stiffens in his arms and breaks away from their dance. “There is nothing between Mr. Argent and myself.”

His tone brooks now argument, but that's never stopped Isaac before. “At times, I think he might like there to be.”

Peter snorts is derision, mutters under his breath. “Perhaps now that I am respectable,” and then pulls himself fully away from Isaac. “I need some air. Excuse me.”

-

Peter finds himself lost among the roses, settles down on a chilly bench and tries to come to grips with what has become of his life. He's peacefully alone for a very long time, and he thinks to stay here, perhaps, until the gathering has come to an end.

“Are you fond of roses?” Christopher Argent's voice sounds in the quiet, and Peter sits up, ramrod straight, and sets his jaw.

“We have some lovely ones at the estate,” he manages, then rises in order to make his escape.

“I'd love to see them sometime,” the older man murmurs as he steps closer.

“Perhaps,” Peter returns civilly. “If you'll excuse me.”

“I think not,” Christopher says just before he reaches out and pulls Peter close, lowers his lips onto those of the younger man's.

It's what he's been longing for, and yet not in the fashion that he wanted it, still Peter allows himself this one indulgence, this one kiss that he might have it to think of on cold nights.

When Chris pulls away, he's obviously expecting a pliant, adoring Peter, but instead he gets Hale steel, chin up and full of arrogance.

“If you do that again, you will find my blade through your flesh.”

-

Peter and his wards are invited to many social occasions, and though Peter is quite particular about which ones they attend, they still end up spending a fair amount of time in society. Fortunately for Peter's state of mind, Argent has seemingly taken his warning to heart, for he does not approach again, but Peter can feel those eyes upon him, always.

Isaac and Derek become fast friends, and so Peter can keep abreast of the lives of his one-times charges without having to resort to skullduggery or the like. The boy does, however, have the frustrating habit of trying to wrangle an invitation for his father to visit out of Peter.

Peter can't allow it, can't see the man comfortable in his home, because he would never want him to leave. Peter simply cannot tie himself to someone who only thinks he's worthy now that he has his family fortune at his fingertips.

It's apparent the young men do not agree, for Isaac draws Derek into his scheming, and Peter comes home one day to find the man in question sitting down to tea with Peter's family, plus his eldest son.

He suffers through a strained but civil meal, and then excuses himself and Derek for a moment, then drags the youth out the back door.

“I require an explanation as to what that man is doing at my table.” Peter is seething, but Derek is resolute.

“He loves you and you love him.” The stubborn set of his jaw, reminds Peter so powerfully of his lost sister that he finds he must take a breath to force away the burgeoning grief before he can continue.

“Argent appreciates the gentleman of substance that I am now. He would not have me as the tutor beneath his standing.”

“That's not precisely true.” Christopher has rudely followed them, and eavesdropped on their disagreement.

“This is a private matter,” Peter rejoins primly, and Argent nods, gaze never leaving his face.

“So it is. Derek, be a good lad and leave us to it.”

Peter gawps as Derek scurries away and then rounds on the older man, eyes flashing. “You have no right-”

“I have every right.” Christopher cuts him off and then pulls him close, kisses him ruthlessly.

True to his word, Peter's dagger is in his hand, but Christopher is faster, wraps a strong hand about the smaller wrist and forces it back until the blade clatters to the crushed stone walk.

He kisses Peter until the younger man relents and melts into his embrace, and only then does he pull back, whispers against soft lips.

“I loved you from that first second I saw you, covered in mud, face sliced, hair awry. Telling you then would have been taking advantage, and I could not be sure you would not feel pressure to reciprocate due to myself being your employer.” He looks intently down into the cerulean eyes. “Do not ever doubt that I have loved you truly, all this time. And I have waited long enough.”

Christopher scoops an unresisting Peter into his arms and carries him to the bedchamber.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if I need to tag anything.
> 
> [Tumblr](goddessofcruelty.tumblr.com)


End file.
